


Come Dew, Come Rust

by dorkery



Series: Hither Lies Our Fated Way [1]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Arranged Marriage, M/M, Politics, Teenagers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-17
Updated: 2012-07-17
Packaged: 2017-11-10 03:41:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,304
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/461827
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dorkery/pseuds/dorkery
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Houses of Austria and Spain come together in matrimony. And so begins the reign of the Austro-Spanish Habsburg Dynasty.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Come Dew, Come Rust

**Author's Note:**

> Suuuper old and kind of terrible, but I wanted to slowly move things over to AO3.
> 
> [Here](http://etcetera-desu.livejournal.com/2773.html) is the resource page with all the original notes and links.
> 
> [Here](http://www.mediafire.com/?u66oze97mreghs4) is a download to the shiny pdf.

 

 

 

 

Let others wage war; you, happy Austria, marry.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

I.

A DEEP tremendous sound my slumbers broke,  
Rous’d with the subterranean peal, I woke,  
As some strong arm had shook me from my sleep :  
Trembling I rose, and wildly gaz’d around,  
To see what region of the dark profound  
Held me, a prisoner of the penal deep.

II.

Suspended high upon the brink of Hell,  
List’ning, we stood to hear the dismal yell  
Successive pealing round the world of woe :  
Downward I gaz’d intent ; but gaz’d in vain,  
Such darkness over-hung the place of pain,  
Hiding the horrid vision far below.

III.

Ev’n MARO shew’d the signs of pale dismay,  
And cry’d, “ down hither lies our fated way !”  
While I, alarm’d with his contagious hue,  
Falt’ring reply’d, “ if dastard fear controul  
On Hell’s dread verge, the disembodied soul,  
Shall mortal man the dang’rous path pursue?”

IV.

“ Not fear, but pity,” the mild spirit said,  
“ For those, for those in yon’ ambiguous shade,  
Exiles of Glory ! touch’d my heart with pain !  
But haste, a tedious way before us lies.”  
He spoke, I follow’d, struck with pale surprise,  
To the first region of the dark domain.

[...]

Canto the Fourth  
Inferno  
Dante’s Divine Comedy

_The POET proceeds to the LIMBO of the ANCIENTS, where he finds the Souls of Patriarchs,_  
Sages, Poets, and Heroes, confined in a fort of ELYSIUM ; among whom VIRGIL names the  
most remarkable ; and describes a wonderful Revolution that had happened in the Region  
of the Infernal World, in the time of TIBERIUS. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

  


He is that fallen lance that lies as hurled,

That lies unlifted now, come dew, come rust,

But still lies pointed as it ploughed the dust.

If we who sight along it round the world,

See nothing worthy to have been its mark,

It is because like men we look too near,

Forgetting that as fitted to the sphere,

Our missiles always make too short an arc.

They fall, they rip the grass, they intersect

The curve of earth, and striking, break their own;

They make us cringe for metal-point on stone.

But this we know, the obstacle that checked

And tripped the body, shot the spirit on

Further than target ever showed or shone.

 

A Soldier by Robert Frost

 

 

* * *

 

 

_His heart was pounding._

 

 

Spain let out an uncharacteristic sigh, hugging his knees as he gloomily stared out at France and Holy Roman Empire bickering over little Italy in the courtyard. They seemed so carefree, so unburdened... he felt the unyielding pangs of jealousy strike over and over again as his expression darkened. He gave himself a light head-butt, face buried in the rich blood red galligaskins covering his knees and, for a moment, he could feel his strong resolve waver. Tears threatened to fall, but he remained defiant. He was Spain, country of passion. He was nothing if not determined, no matter what he did, but now... He didn't know what to do or how to feel. He'd had no choice at all in the matter, and for better or for worse, he was now tied in a union with Austria. Spain knew full well that he was being silly, that marriage between nations was extremely common, but there was this unsettling trepidation that had taken hold of his heart, and it ached so. He squeezed his eyes shut.

 

 

_The corridors were cold marble, dark and chiselled to an artificial perfection that was all at once breathtakingly beautiful and frightening. He was a connoisseur of art, that much was true, but every fibre of his being felt coarse in such a manse. Candlelight showed the way in an impenetrable darkness. He walked with a hand on the wall, blind and unsteady and every bit as excited as he was anxious._

 

 

Spain was young. He was no longer a child by any means, but even centuries old the nation retained the youthful spirit that his physical appearance suggested. To the normal eye, Spain was a teenager in the very bloom of life, red hot and fierce, romantic and wonderfully sentimental. Spain was exactly all of that. He felt wretched for it as he toyed with the thin gold band on his ring finger, turning it slowly around with his thumb, feeling the stark coolness of a smooth ridge against calloused, battle-hardened skin. He could easily imagine that this was what Austria was exactly like placed beside him, a graceful nobleman keeping a delicate arm’s length away from a rough-and-tumble scoundrel.

He raised his head, focusing on the fine inscription on the band that faced inwards, oft hidden in the palm of his hand. It was too fine for him to make out, and in Austria’s native tongue; the creed of the House of Habsburg or something like that. He hadn’t really been paying attention when it was explained to him.

“Antonio!”

He glanced past his shoulder, meeting the displeased gaze of a governess who began to tell him off with a temper that was only too reminiscent of the nation with whom he had just married. He couldn’t help the thin smile that ghosted his face at the thought, the idea that firm and strict Austria had been a naughty child once, and had subsequently adopted his governess’ habits once discipline had finally been successfully hammered into him. 

For the briefest moment, he could barely describe Austria as being a little cute.

 

 

_The entire passage now was an all-encompassing black, without torches or candles to light the path, but he knew where to go. A single room with its heavy and majestic doors pulled open, located on the right side of the passage, flooded light in a single powerful stream that illuminated a marble statue opposite it so overwhelmingly that it seemed like the statue was glowing. He hands shook in anticipation and even though his heart began to hammer in his chest, even though his nerves had begun to fray so very quickly, his feet moved of their own accord and he entered the chamber. Deep in the middle of the room stood an incredibly ornate altar on a raised platform. Crystal sparkled everywhere, every single chandelier and cresset lit for a ceremony that only four people would attend. He took a slow breath._

 

 

Somewhere in the distance, his new tutor was lecturing on and on about trade and culture and traditions, but Spain’s unfocused green eyes were glued to the brilliant blue sky outside, elbow on the table and chin on his palm. Even though they were seated on the back porch of the manse, he couldn’t help but feel caged in on such a beautiful day. He longed to stretch his legs and play with France or cute little Italy. He tossed the poor governess a nonplussed look as she tried to scold him for his lack of attention and allowed his eyes to wander around, ignoring her. There wasn’t much anyone could do by way of reproaching such creatures as nation-people – young as they looked and acted, there was something about them that seemed absurdly otherworldly. 

Through one of the windows in the manse, he caught sight of Austria watching him quietly with a cup of tea. Their eyes connected, but neither looked away. The other nation was calm, not at all perturbed. Spain wondered how long Austria had been sitting there and watching, wondered _why_ he was sitting there and watching, wondered if the cakes he’d been eating were any good. Austria lowered his gaze to stir his drink, and Spain couldn’t help but feel that the more he looked at Austria and took in all those fine gestures and mannerisms, the tighter the knots in his chest felt. Painfully self-conscious, he looked away, gazing wordlessly at the band on his ring finger again with a slightly grim expression.

Austria’s face was cautiously stoical.

 

 

_He found that he couldn’t meet Austria’s eyes as they knelt before the altar, a heavy veil of white lace draped over them. Their hands were joined, but they trembled slightly. Spain wasn’t sure if the trembling came from him, or Austria, or both, but it made him feel ashamed. The blessings the priest was chanting ebbed away into a meaningless garble of words as the pounding of his heart overtook all sound. He felt so very aware of the hand he was holding, of the other person beneath the veil, silently cursing the overwhelming privacy it granted them both. He was a mess of emotions. He chanced a glance at Austria and found the other nation looking straight ahead calmly._

_As Austria turned slightly to reciprocate Spain’s gaze, Spain quickly looked away. He couldn’t bear to see the look in his eyes._

_He didn’t want to fall any lower._

 

 

Spain leapt to his feet in joy. His begging and pleading (and natural charm) had worked its magic on the tutor and she finally granted him leave of their lesson. With a stretch, he cast her dazzling smile and trotted off in search of his mates.

The tutor shook her head, unwilling to admit that he would soon have her wrapped around his finger, and crossed her arms as he watched him jog away. A moment or two passed and she soon heard the gentle scrape of a screen being pulled away. Austria emerged, hands clasped behind his back as he joined her.

“He _is_ doing well,” she sighed. “But he’s from a land of sun. His limbs were born to run and climb. I wish he’d put more effort into his lessons. Antonio is smart, just… restless. He seems so distracted all the time.”

Austria was silent a moment. His tone one of suggestion rather than enquiry, he asked, “But he is doing well?”

“Oh, very,” the tutor said. “This union has been to his benefit. There is so much progress, so much wealth in his land now. So much power.” She paused thoughtfully, before continuing with slight hesitation. “I hear that they want to send him with the conquistadors.”

“The New World,” Austria’s tone was bland, but having been with him for some time, she knew better. 

“Don’t be upset, Roderich,” she smiled kindly, patting his arm. 

“I am no such thing,” he replied a little too insistently, scowling. He quickly regained his composure and bowed. “I will take my leave now.”

“Good day, Roderich.”

“And you.”

 

 

_”Are you afraid?”_

_Spain looked up at Austria, his face illuminated faintly by moon and candlelight. Spain’s expression was many things, but afraid was one he was sure it wasn’t. He shook his head, clutching the sheets, expression somewhat guarded and more than just a little puzzled. Both of them had been stripped of their formal vestments, now in the basest of undergarments in the ceremonial bedchamber. Austria was kneeling on top of Spain, hands at work where Spain was reluctant._

_“Your heart is beating very fast. Or are you excited?”_

_“Austria,” Spain finally found his voice, and it wasn’t as firm or as confident as he had hoped. He was extremely red. “Do we have to do this?”_

_“It’s a formality. We just need to consummate the union.”_

_“But… to go this far for a political union…”_

_Austria leaned in close, face hovering inches away from Spain’s. “I think you’re afraid,” he said, a hand sliding down Spain’s thigh meaningfully even though his face remained carefully neutral. “Because you’re excited.”_

_“I am not going to do this if this is nothing more than a barter,” Spain insisted, unable to deny what Austria had accurately hypothesized. “Especially if you’re going to do this looking like I don’t mean anything.”_

_Austria looked a little surprised at that. “That’s not true.”_

_“Let’s not do this,” Spain pleaded. “Let’s just tell them we did it.”_

_“Stop being selfish.”_

_“I am the country of passion!” Spain exclaimed with a sudden flare of anger. “I don’t do anything half-heartedly! How can I let you hold me if neither of our hearts are in it?”_

_Austria went silent at that. Spain was infamous for being thick – he always had been even throughout their childhood – but he had no idea how close to home that had hit. Austria levelled Spain with a steady gaze._

_“You would marry me without consummating the union? Is that not half-hearted?”_

_Spain opened his mouth to respond, but found that he could not. He had no words. He hadn’t thought of it like that. Austria knew too well how those gears in his head worked._

_“We’re not people, Spain. We’re nations. Everything we do, we do for the sake of our people. This is for the sake of our people. This union will not be complete until we join our bodies. Though your heart is uninvolved, if in this you may find pleasure, I implore that you partake of it. Do you understand?”_

_Spain shut his mouth, expression darkening. Austria had had enough by then._

 

 

Austria found Spain in front of the manse, speaking with a man he could only recognise as a Spanish noble. Spain’s countenance was very calm. In fact, he was much calmer than Austria had ever seen though he did not smile. If he had to describe what he felt of the scene, Austria could only think that Spain was behaving himself in the presence of an important figure.

Spain never did smile when he was being ordered to enter a battlefield (unless of course it was against another country he’d been meaning to issue a beating to) but his eyes always shone at the prospect. They were completely clear and sober, as though he fully comprehended what he was going to do, like he _could see_ what would happen, what the inevitable outcome was. Young nation though he was, he had tasted the sweet nectar of hard-earned victory many a time already.

As the nobleman took his leave, Spain turned, startled to find himself face to face with an approaching Austria. His gut instinct was to run off, but he stood still and allowed the nation to approach. He did not tremble but he felt his nerves falter at the expression on Austria’s face. He could not read it, and he supposed he never really would be able to.

“You are leaving.”

“Yeah. Yes,” he corrected himself, much less awkwardly than he’d expected. 

“How long?”

“For a few years.” Spain could not help but notice that when Austria asked a question, he did it in such a firm manner that they almost always sounded like phrases rather than queries.

Austria’s frown deepened. 

“Is it a war?”

“Don’t worry,” Spain reassured. “If it’s just a few years, it’s probably nothing.”

Austria allowed Spain to evade the topic. He could always ask someone else. It was how he tended to get any information about Spain nowadays, he noted bitterly.

“When are you leaving?”

“Next month… ish,” Spain scratched his chin thoughtfully. “We’re waiting on food supplies right now. We cast off once our stores are filled.”

It was silent between them after that. Spain usually knew how to fill up a void with idle chatter, but with Austria, it was different. Their circumstances had changed a lot of things. He used to feel so at ease around the other nation, but now, knowing what little he knew, everything about Austria and his manse and their marriage weighed him down. He wished none of it did because he had been on rather good terms with Austria as children, and he didn’t want to offend the other country, but he’d been avoiding Austria for quite some time now since their marriage. Standing beside him felt unbearable. Spain shifted his weight from foot to foot, thinking up a good excuse to escape.

“… Make sure you come to dinner. The cooks are making paella for you.”

Taken aback, Spain looked up at that, eyes wide and hopeful. “Really?”

“And gazpacho.”

“Gazpacho?” He was excited now. “With _tomatoes?_ ”

“You’re going to have to find out at dinner.”

“What about dessert?”

“What would you like?”

“Turrón! Oh, but with Austrian hazelnuts. Those are delicious.”

Austria filed a mental note to find out what turrón was. 

“I’m sure they can manage if I ask.”

“I’ll be there,” Spain grinned widely, enthused. Austria was privately relieved to see him smiling again. They’d need to have Spanish meals more often. “But I’m just going to go and hide now, okay? If your governess asks, you never saw me.”

Austria quirked a brow and crossed his arms. 

“The sooner you complete all your lessons, the sooner she’ll stop hunting you down.”

“Austria,” Spain began with dismay, unable to comprehend why Austria would even side with her. “She’s a _she-devil_.”

“You’re just incredibly lazy.”

“I am not,” Spain insisted with a slight pout. “I’m only a little lazy.”

“That’s not going to stack up in Austrian culture.”

“ _Ay_ , aren’t you supposed to be nice to me now that we’re married?”

Just like that, Spain broke down the façade of normalcy he had been desperately trying to erect. He stiffened, eyes wide in slight horror as he stared at Austria, who hadn’t outwardly reacted. Inside, Spain was cursing himself, _stupid, stupid, stupid_ because it had been incredibly stupid of him to say. 

One thing was for sure: he knew now, more than ever, that he could never hope to go back to the friendship they used to have. His feelings were the problem. He couldn’t keep tiptoeing on eggshells with Austria, but he couldn’t describe what his problem was. If he didn’t know, he couldn’t even hope to fix it. He hated Austria a little, just a little, for handling himself with all the maturity he had, for taking everything in stride.

“I am nice to you. Especially considering how very foolish you are.”

Spain felt himself shrink under Austria’s gaze. Under normal circumstances, he’d be pouting and explaining that he wasn’t _very_ foolish, more like _kind of_ foolish. He tried to say it, it was on the tip of his tongue, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t bring himself to. Those eyes were sharp and incredibly honest and they frightened him because he didn't know the name of the emotion they were inspiring within him. He looked away, fists clenched at his sides.

“I need to go.”

“Wait, Spain, you haven’t…”

Spain turned on his heel and ran.

 

 

_Spain gasped as Austria held him down forcefully, one of his hands reaching down underneath his tunic and pulling it up. He tried to struggle but faltered when Austria crushed their mouths together, enveloping him in a fiery kiss that stunned even Spain._

_He was paralysed, completely unable to comprehend what was happening to him as he the blood rushed to his head and clouded his thoughts. The feel of the regal Austria’s lips and tongue against his was indescribably pornographic and Spain felt a tingle run down his spine as those soft and wiry fingers left heat wherever they touched him._

_He snapped out of his reverie when a moan reverberated between them, Austria taking to grinding their hips together. Spain could feel how hard both of them were and tried to push Austria away, fingers gripping into Austria’s cambric shirt, but that’s when he felt both of their erections being gripped tautly together and he lost himself._

_Spain shuddered, cursing in his native tongue when Austria broke the kiss and began to focus his tongue and teeth along Spain’s throat. Spain’s breaths were short, the sudden influx of air mercy unto his lungs, but they hitched and stopped with every motion of Austria’s hand._

_Skin aflame, beaded and shining with sweat, Spain willingly allowed Austria to pull his tunic over his head. Austria stripped himself as well before pressing himself against Spain. He kissed down Spain’s collarbone reverently, licking and sucking the crook of his neck._

_Both arms now hooked over Austria’s neck, Spain pulled him closer and moaned into his ear, fingers threading into his usually impeccably neat hair. Austria had abandoned their erections in favour of sliding his finger into Spain, pushing and pulling gently until the motion was smooth enough to allow for the insertion of another._

_Spain’s body convulsed at the sensation, unable to comprehend whether what he was feeling was strange or good, eyes glazed and staring up ahead at nothing in particular as Austria pulled his body back and leaned over him._

_Spain’s arms fell uselessly to the bed and he clutched the sheets, groaning as Austria inserted another finger and moved his hand with a slight twisting motion._

_He saw Austria licking his lips, eyes intently focused on his task, and that stirred something inside of Spain. He barely felt his own hand snake down to grasp his cock. He squeezed, pumped, felt himself twitch at the overpowering sensations that he had begun to submit to. Good. It was definitely good now. He felt his breath catch, a word that sounded like a name coming out in a plea._

_Austria looked up at that and caught Spain’s eye, watched him with a catlike intensity as he, with and agonising slowness, slid his fingers back into Spain and suddenly pressed something inside him that made Spain cry out, eyes wide with shock and pleasure. They stared at each other for the longest time, seconds trickling by as Spain caught his breath and calmed down._

_Austria stretched him out with his fingers, pausing at the moan that spilled forth, and he pushed himself into Spain._

 

 

Dinner was awkward. 

Spain ate up everything he was served with all the table manners that Austria’s tutor had hammered into him, thanking the servants and cooks who came to make sure it was to his liking. The food was good, as expected of Austrian chefs, but he couldn’t taste anything as he ate. He kept his eyes on everything but Austria and his idle chatter was stilted. Austria himself was as normal as he could be. That made it a little worse, somehow.

Spain was quick to excuse himself after dinner. 

He wandered around the manse aimlessly, exploring without really paying any attention. He needed to be a little aimless. Spain tended to save all his brainpower for things related to the rule of his kingdom, to war decisions, important things like that. Now, he knew for a fact that, if left to his own devices, his mind would go into overdrive and he’d think himself to death about Austria and their relationship. For all intents and purposes, Spain enjoyed being simple. When he was a simple, black-and-white kind of person, life became simple. He enjoyed not having to use his head.

But Austria was a different matter altogether. Spain had never really liked the idea of marriage, much less an _arranged_ marriage, because, being the country of passion and a person of sentimentality and romance, he really wanted to be in love with the person he married. He cared about Austria, of course. They’d grown up together and were on relatively good terms. However, he had never shared with Austria the closeness he and France had. They may as well have been complete strangers.

Not to say that Spain _hadn’t_ tried to get to know Austria better, but… 

They were so very different and Spain was very, very confused.

If Spain _had_ liked Austria point blank, the matter would have been settled long ago. Spain was relentless. He’d have wooed and courted and serenaded Austria until Austria gave into his doggone determination, if not for some semblance of love. Spain had tried to get closer to his then-fiancé-to-be, but Austria confused him. Sometimes he was very nice, but there were times Spain felt like Austria couldn’t stand him. He found that that hurt him the most.

Spain sighed softly, leaning into the wall he’d been running his fingers against and gave himself another light head-butt, feeling a dull ache blossom where his forehead had come into contact with a particularly sharp engraving along the wall. 

“Try not to get rid of whatever few brain cells you have left.”

Spain stiffened, turning to meet the owner of that slightly irritated voice.

“That’s not very cute of you,” Spain replied lamely.

“Being cute isn’t my aim,” Austria said with a furrowed brow. “Where are you going?”

“To bed,” Spain lied. He just wanted to be alone. “I’m pretty tired.”

“My room is the other way,” Austria said. 

Spain looked puzzled for a moment, but Austria refused to say anything more until the statement and its connotations properly sank into Spain’s thick skull. It took a good minute or two, but when it finally did, Austria noted with some satisfaction exactly how much Spain’s green eyes widened.

“You’ve been sleeping in the guest room.”

“So what?” Spain nearly stammered. “It’s not like I live here or anything.”

“You’re avoiding me and I don’t like it,” Austria said firmly, grabbing Spain by the wrist and walking back in the direction they had come from, ignoring his spluttered protests. He didn’t see how much redder Spain grew at the contact. 

“I don’t understand why you’re acting like this,” Austria ground out, anger apparent in his voice. “It’s not like anything’s changed.”

“Are you crazy?” Spain asked, pulling away from Austria’s hold with a shove. “Everything’s changed! How can you expect me to be with you and not remember that we’re married!”

“Do you not like being married to me?” Austria raised his voice. “Have I been mistreating you?”

“You haven’t!” Spain was shouting now. “But it’s not like you love me or anything!”

“What’s that got to do with anything!”

“That’s got to do with _everything_ , you jerk!”

“Like what!”

“Like being married and sleeping together!”

“What did you expect? We’re in a political union!”

“That makes it even worse!”

“Why are you making such a big deal out of it?” Austria argued hotly. “It’s not like you like _me_.”

“I- Well I- I mean- I- That is-”

Spain turned absolutely scarlet.

Austria’s eyes widened.

“… You _like_ me?”

“No! I mean- Maybe! I don’t know!” Spain wailed desperately. “I don’t _know_. You make my head _hurt_. I can’t tell if you like me or hate me but you drive me _insane_. I hate being with you and having you look down on me. I’m not like France or Italy. I have _pride_. I don’t give in. I _never_ give in.”

Spain breathed harshly, pouring as much of his soul into his words, feeling the adrenaline coursing through him as he finally raised the floodgates of restraint and order. Austria looked at his face, saw those burning eyes and that embarrassed and agonised expression, as the gears began to slowly now click into place. He’d been waiting for this confrontation and as much as it unnerved it, he welcomed it with open arms. 

“Look…” Spain’s voice was hoarse now. “I’m an idiot, okay? I admit it. But there are some things I can’t take and I can’t take you looking at me like I don’t mean anything. I’m Spain. That _means_ something. I hate being married to you without properly loving you because it… it just goes against my principles, okay? I want to love you, I’ve been _trying_ to love you but I… I haven’t been able to… bring myself to… be…” 

Spain trailed off, flushing.

“What?” Austria asked. “To be what, Spain?”

“… To be near you when you ignore who I am.”

They lapsed into silence, both of them not quite looking at each other.

“I’ve never ignored you,” Austria protested quietly, finally. “You’re the one _avoiding_ me.”

“I don’t mean- When I say that-” 

Spain cut himself off, biting down on his lip. He flushed. 

Austria was right.

For a single moment, Austria looked at Spain incomprehensibly, in a mixture of bewilderment and vexation at that dejected face. His scowl was inescapably polite, but present nonetheless. It felt like he had just experienced the culmination of every single moment he’d made himself tolerate Spain’s bullheadedness and it caused his patience to fray dangerously thin. 

Austria let out a heavy sigh, despondent and irritated, and he pinched the bridge of his nose to stave off an impending migraine. He spoke with as controlled a tone as he could manage, but there was no denying the exasperation in his voice.

“There’s been some major miscommunication going on here. I fully acknowledge you, your people, and the fact that we’re married. You _do_ mean something to me. If you didn’t, I wouldn’t go so far as to help you get settled into my customs so my people would like you, or ship in tomatoes from _the New World_ so that you can have soup made with it.”

Austria watched Spain through partially narrowed eyes, waiting for some reaction to what normal people would consider a rather embarrassing admission. By all means, the behaviour he was displaying was unbecoming and offensively vulgar for a refined nation such as himself, but Austria could no longer dance around Spain’s plain idiocy with manners.

On the other hand, Spain’s expression was hesitant, brows furrowed as he turned those statements over and over again in his head. He took a moment to recollect each incident, to recall what he’d thought of them, and he tried to make sense of how Austria justified them as being done for his sake. He couldn’t understand it, and he was sure that he was putting in every effort to use his brain for such an important issue. There was something telling him that he should feel happy about it, but something far more enormous was telling him to say, “Huh?”

It seemed like Austria knew exactly what was going on in Spain’s head and he reached forward to place a hand on his shoulder. The contact made Spain recoil, reddening further. He couldn’t meet Austria’s eyes this time, but it made no difference because Austria’s eyes were glued on the rapid rising and falling of Spain’s chest. 

There was a lingering silence that was incredibly loud to them then, that echoed off the walls and ceilings, a quiet hum that grew louder and louder in wisps of thought until the exact second Austria’s hand fell to his side. Austria swung his gaze upwards to Spain’s face.

“…You want to go to _bed_ with me,” he said in awe as the final piece fell into place.

Spain’s eyes widened.

 

 

_Spain threw his head back with a cry as he came, legs tightening around Austria’s waist and fingers of his right hand digging into Austria’s arm. He trembled and felt his entire body collapse into the mattress, panting heavily as his head lolled to the side and his vision slid in and out of focus. Above, Austria released his grip of Spain’s cock, other palm pressed flat against his thigh and sliding down with sweat. He leaned over Spain, eyes half-closed, lips parted to breathe. His orgasm had come a little before, and he had begun to recover a little._

_After a few moments spent just calming down, Austria reached over for a damp rag on a tray beside the bed that had been prepared ahead of time. He wiped his come-covered hand with it, casting a final glance to Spain before he leaned closer._

_Spain’s eyes were closed, almost dead to the world, but he felt the mattress shifting and something cool and wet came into contact with his thigh. It slid along his skin, wiping for what seemed an age, and Spain wondered why he couldn’t yet fall asleep when he was being lulled to do so with such gentleness. Even though his mind was foggy, he could feel every solitary drop of water dribbling down along his now tender thighs with gravity, gliding along the curve of his slightly quivering muscles, about to separate and fall when a cupped hand would catch it with bunched up cloth. He could feel the slow roll of breath lightly touching his skin, hot when Austria was close, cooling when he moved away._

_By the time the rag slid away, Spain felt the mattress shift and a heavy blanket being draped over him. He edged on his side a little, a sudden instinct to reach out for a body next to him overcoming him. Spain stretched his fingers tentatively, a glass-like sharpness in one corner of his mind telling him that Austria would not be there. Or if he were, those eyes would be watching him with that earnest intensity. And if Spain opened his eyes, reached out for him, neither circumstance would save the impending heartache._

_It was the fever amidst the dream that made him look._

_What Spain did not expect was Austria’s back as he took the farthest end of the bed and turned away._

 

 

They stood in the middle of the corridor, Austria in dumbfounded silence and Spain in utter mortification at what he had come to realise after Austria so helpfully explained it to him. He tried to stutter out a clear denial, but he couldn’t, no matter how hard he tried. He gestured wildly, painfully aware of the tremble that had gripped his hands, panic halting the cadence of words that usually came so naturally to him. Spain always knew that he was a bad liar, but he’d go down with a fight, so help him. For Austria, it was an eye opener. He had always known that Spain was unbelievably romantic and righteous even for a hot country, but now he knew just how much he had underestimated that unwavering belief in love and justice. Spain couldn’t bear the thought of marriage and sex without love. 

How incredibly stupid and so very like him.

Austria grabbed Spain by the wrist and led him away again.

“You’re the biggest fool I have ever met,” he said with unrestrained bite, not caring in the least if his less than regal tone made Spain wince. “The absolute biggest. If you want to go to bed with me, _go to bed with me_.”

“Have you been listening to me? I can’t-”

“You can. I have no objections whatsoever.”

“You should! There’s a limit to how far you can take political-”

“There’s a limit to how absolutely _stupid_ you can get.”

“I may be stupid, but I have my principles!”

“Your principles are as stupid as you are!”

“Don’t you insult my beliefs!”

“I’ll insult them all I want. We’re _married_ and I’ve got the right.”

“For the love of- I don’t want to be married to you!”

“That would have meant something an hour ago. You’re too late now.”

They’d argued as Austria marched them across the manse to his own room. He threw Spain in and locked the door behind them, striding towards Spain to catch his face in his hands and shut him up with a well-placed kiss. Spain struggled under his grip, definitely superior when it came to brute strength, but Austria was overpowering. He had gained a might that had been absent when they were younger and it reminded Spain of exactly why it was he who had been married into the House of Habsburg. Spain broke away with a harsh shove, wiping the trail of saliva from his mouth with the back of his hand as he arched his back defensively, glaring at Austria like a livid cat. He was panting, a rage sparking within him and burning his blood.

Before him, Austria stood, his almost nonchalant expression betraying his dishevelled appearance and flushed cheeks. His clothes were askew and his hair was a rumpled mess. He hooked a finger over the knot of his ascot; adjusting or loosening it, Spain didn’t care to know. Spain felt then that unbearable gulf between them, the esteemed nobleman and the uncouth ruffian. He hated Austria’s stiff upper lip, his cold countenance, the arrogance in which Spain drowned and yearned so terribly to be placed above. He snarled openly. No matter how powerful Austria was, Spain had the blood of the conqueror.

“I’m nothing but a prize to you,” Spain hissed. “I should break you to pieces.”

“Then push me down,” Austria challenged sharply. “Because it seems like you’re desperate to prove something.”

“I’m not a thing you can toy with!” Spain shouted, grabbing the closest thing to him, a cushion, and throwing it as hard as he could at Austria who barely shielded himself from the attack. “I’m not a colony you can brush off and order around!”

“Why won’t you listen to me?” Austria demanded, grabbing Spain by the shoulders, fully intending to shake some sense into him. “You’re not a _thing_ , you idi-”

Austria’s words left him with a startled gasp as Spain shoved him against a wall and crushed their lips together, fingers grasping his throat and gripping his hair, forcing his head back to take Spain’s tongue into his mouth. Austria scrambled against Spain’s grip, fighting to regain control of the situation even as the hand on his throat dropped to his waist to palm his crotch roughly. His hips bucked, but he didn’t falter. He kissed Spain back, Austria grabbing him by the front of his shirt and forcing him towards the bed. They broke the kiss for a second as Spain fell backwards but they were on each other again as soon as Spain’s body hit the mattress, ripping away ascots and jackets and undershirts with wild abandon. 

He’d tossed his spectacles aside as Spain pushed him down, resuming the assault on his body while Austria fumbled with Spain’s galligaskins. Spain bit into his collarbone, yanking down Austria’s hose to his ankles, which the latter only too helpfully kicked off, and gripped his cock tightly, earning a strangled cry and mindless clawing of the back from Austria.

He stroked, ignoring the hips rolling into his fist as his fingers threaded into Austria’s hair and jerked his head back. Spain’s mouth found a tender expanse of skin along Austria’s throat and he bit down hard, sucking fervently at the blood that pooled, relishing the taste, barely registering the unbroken rhythm of his own thrusting into a hand that had begun to mirror his own motions. It was slick between them, sweat mingling with pre-come that dripped down their hands in large rivulets and smeared across their bodies with each pump and thrust and Spain lowered his body so they were pressed almost flush against each other, increasing the friction. 

He heard Austria moan, gasp his name, and as Spain closed his eyes to focus all his energy into surfacing the impending orgasm, he felt Austria reach behind him with his other hand and slide a finger deep inside him, causing Spain to jerk back with a startled shudder. His own pace faltered, but Austria’s hold of him and the speed with which he touched Spain didn’t at all. 

Spain gripped the sheets with both hands, arching over Austria, twitching with each sensation as he was pleasured from the front and back, panting openly and pinning Austria with a burning, half-lidded gaze as he revelled in the utter chaos that had overtaken his consort’s appearance. The sight of him dirty and red-faced and hungry was a turn-on Spain had been trying to keep at bay, but he couldn’t give a damn even if Austria begged him to.

Spain shivered with anticipation as something twisted his stomach in knots. He could enjoy some begging from Austria.

Just then, fingers brushed against something inside him that sent Spain into a brief frenzy, shaking and thrashing and throwing his head back with a cry as an overwhelming trembling took control of him, straddling Austria. Their eyes connected then, in a brief haze of clarity through the oppressive atmosphere, and Austria slowly repeated the motion, causing Spain to jolt and bite down a moan. Bolstered, Austria began to thrust his fingers in and out of Spain, watching earnestly as Spain writhed above him, arching sharply, rutting against Austria himself in response to the stimulation. Spain’s breaths were too short to give way to any pleading, and he preferred it that way. His eyes began to flutter and Austria quickly removed his fingers, placing both palms upon Spain’s rump and stretching them apart as Spain let out a frustrated huff, grinding down insistently before he himself reached back to position Austria’s cock at his entrance. 

Spain lowered his body sharply and let out a string of Spanish curses.

Austria wondered briefly if Spain was hurt, but he could do no more than lie there as the heat clouded his thoughts, as the ring of muscle enveloping him clenched tighter and tighter. There was something so different about the whole act this time around, some misplaced emotion, and even as Spain leaned back gripping the mattress behind him and drove down over and over again, even as Austria’s fingernails dug into Spain’s hips and broke the jagged lines of supple skin to form angry welts, even as the cries turned animalistic and the moans began to mingle and the names began to slur into incomprehensible words, recognition flew beyond Austria’s grasp and he surrendered.

The wet slap of skin against skin drew heavier, faster, and with a final, lingering echo of contact, Spain arched with a shudder and a cry, twitching with each pulse of orgasm, collapsing into Austria. He remained still, breathing harshly into Austria’s ear as Austria held him down by the small of his back and continued to thrust into him, pace fast but erratic, gasping words he could barely understand in that native tongue of his and at long last, he came with a jolt, throwing his head back as he stared dully at the ceiling and panted.

Austria closed his eyes, breathing as slowly as he could as his hands skimmed up along the ridges of Spain’s spine, resting on his back and on the nape of his neck. He inhaled slowly the scent of sweat and earth and was more than willing to fall asleep like that when Spain pulled out of his embrace and slid off of him. Wordlessly, Spain crawled to Austria’s side and edged to the end of the bed, tiredly pulling the blanket over his body, his back to Austria. He relaxed slightly, head lolling as he partially buried his face into his pillow. Soon, his breathing became more even.

Austria watched on with silent contemplation, expression blank, fingers curled uselessly into the bed sheets. In the fog of climax, he felt a significant loss of inhibition even though sense had slowly begun to return to him. He hesitated a moment, biting down on his lip. Everything in the past few days had been violent breaches of the codes of manners and ethics he’d had been compelled to follow, given his station. He didn’t know what he risked taking things a step further, but they were in the privacy of his bedroom and he knew that some things were worth sacrificing.

“Spain? Are you asleep?”

There was no response. Austria hadn’t expected one.

His expression fell just a mite, but Austria edged closer, propping up his head with his left hand as he draped his right hand over Spain’s body in a half-embrace. He sighed softly.

“This marriage happened because the House of Habsburg and the Kingdom of Spain joined together in union. These things happen all the time.”

Austria paused, tone softening.

“But you knew that, obviously. So you know that whether or not you love me, it won’t matter at all because we’ll marry and then we’ll separate eventually because of what we are. But we’re married, and we have duties to each other. Duties I am more than willing to fulfil. Because that is the extent of my faithfulness to my people.”

Austria bit his lip again, taking a moment to compose himself before he spoke in a slightly lower tone.

“For what it’s worth… I do love you.”

Spain’s reaction was instantaneous.

His eyes widened, shining impenetrably in the veil of night, body mostly turned within the embrace to meet Austria’s gaze, to measure the seriousness of the admission. His lips were parted, tempting, but Austria held fast.

“Do you mean that?”

“I do.”

Spain closed his mouth, taking those words and soaking in them for as long as he needed before he adopted a frustrated expression, gaze misty but eyes dry. The tension in his body dissipated significantly and, odd as it may have seemed, Spain seemed hot to the touch.

“I’m an idiot,” he blurted out, serious and almost upset. “You have to tell me these things-”

“I know,” Austria hushed him quietly, tightening the embrace.

“You should have said earlier-”

“You’re right,” Austria murmured, pressing a kiss to Spain’s lips. “I should have.”

Spain kissed back properly, softly but insistently, a hand winding under Austria’s arm to curve around his body and to hold him in place. As Austria tried to pull away, Spain leaned forward to reclaim the kiss, taking his time, taking advantage of Austria’s parted mouth to explore it with his tongue.

They parted, Spain’s brows furrowed still and expression just as confused as ever.

“Why?” He asked. “Why didn’t you?”

Austria flushed slightly, about to clam down on the answer that he absolutely refused to divulge (because it led to the conclusion that his efforts were second rate and not truly because Spain was incredibly dense), but the look in Spain’s eyes and the situation in which he had finally come to find himself in were both equally deserving of a proper, straightforward explanation. He averted his gaze.

“I thought it was fairly obvious,” he muttered.

Spain blinked.

“What?”

“I mean,” Austria felt the heat in his cheeks rise, and though he pulled Spain flush against him, he refused to look him in the eye. “I keep myself in check around you and try to appear like a capable, mature adult because you’re… you’re _Spain_ and you’re strong and I… well, I haven’t actually been strong for very long. I am terrible at fighting so, if I couldn’t show off in terms of strength, I thought I could at least get you to notice that you’re marrying a fine man. I don’t _yell_ at you like I do France or Italy,” he added with particular bite, to hammer it home. He chanced a glance at Spain, whose expression was blank, but he could see that those rusty cogs in his brain were working furiously.

“You mean… you’ve been trying to be nice to me?”

“You finally get it.”

Austria sighed with a slump, somewhat relieved that the confession had come to an end. He was even more relieved that the receiving end had been Spain, who had a different sense of embarrassment than other nations.

“But… you’ve been acting so _arrogant_ to me!”

Austria gaped at Spain for a good two minutes.

“I…” He interrupted himself, a colourful variety of Austrian curses leaving his lips (and surprising Spain) before he scowled in a far from gentlemanly manner. “I wasn’t being arrogant. I was trying to… I can’t believe I’m saying this.”

“What?” Spain prodded, impatient. “I don’t get it.”

Austria cleared his throat loudly. 

“I wasn’t trying to look arrogant or condescending, you fool. I was… I was trying to _care_ for you. I should have known that it would have just flown over your head, but I guess it did incite you to do something eventually.”

Austria decided that he had never been so embarrassed in his life and was impossibly grateful for the cover Spain’s chest provided as he buried his face in it, face aflame, clutching at Spain even while he did his best to ignore the warm laughter that rang out in the room for the first time ever. He felt Spain squeeze him tight, lips by his temple, laughing softly.

“That’s adorable.”

Austria decided that there was _some_ (not much) merit to being honest if it meant receiving that smile he coveted, but he decided that he’d had enough of honesty. There was a healthy amount of lying that went into maintaining long-lasting marriages and Austria was more than willing to continue that noble tradition of loyalty.

“I prefer you honest, so if there’s something you want to say, just say it, okay?”

Austria flushed, but an important point came to mind and he calmed himself down enough to voice it without uncertainty in his tone.

“… If you want me to be honest, you’d better be too. Why are you leaving?”

He could practically see the smile slipping away from his face, but Austria didn’t move. He waited patiently, aware of hesitance that overtook Spain, giving him the time he needed to decide whether he could share his secrets. Austria was sick to death of finding things out from other people, and not from Spain himself when they were married. He didn’t even want to give Spain the option of leaving the question unanswered, but luckily, Austria didn’t have to wait too long to hear that reluctant voice.

“There’s been some trouble in English waters,” he said, the first time Austria had ever heard him speak of something serious with a proper sense of grimness. “They want me to talk things out with England.”

Austria tensed slightly. He could smell the possibility of war and he didn’t like it.

“I promise, it’s just a talk,” Spain insisted. “I’m not going there to pick a fight.”  
Austria sighed, resting his head against Spain’s.

“Allay my worries. Stay with me until you leave. We don’t need to do anything if you don’t want to.”

“Understood,” Spain’s reply was slow but kind as he tugged the blanket over their heads, dipping lower so that he and Austria were at the same level. He nestled close. “I’ll fall in love with you as soon as I can.”

Austria closed his eyes, slightly embarrassed. “… Understood.”


End file.
